


Talk to Me

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little pillow talk between Napoleon and Illya</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

It was over, just as it frequently was, amid a great flurry of wild thrusts and cries. Now they sprawled over each other, chests heaving, hearts wildly pounding, hands still clutching each other in an attempt to trap the sense of oneness forever.

For Napoleon, this was what made it all worthwhile. Not that he didn’t love the sex ,that part was good, but rather, he loved the intimacy of this moment – the afterglow he’d heard it called. It was a brief moment when he had the best chance of asking and getting an honest answer from his partner.

He stroked Illya’s cheek with the side of his thumb, smiling at the roughness of whiskers in contrast to the softness of the blond hair against his face. 

“Illya?”

“Hmm?” He sounded half asleep.

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Why?”

“No reason… well, I guess I am just… curious.” He drew his finger along Illya’s jaw line, feeling the muscles work beneath the skin.

“When are you not curious, my friend?” Illya shifted and Napoleon could feel him tense in preparation of throwing up his protective barriers again.

“Hmm, well, I can think of a few moments.” He adjusted his position so that he could nuzzle Illya’s ear, tonguing it lightly, and smiled at the shiver that went through his lover’s body. For a minute, he engaged in a bit of hair worship until he could feel Illya relaxing again. “What was he like?”

“How do you know my first love was a man?” There was an edge to Illya’s voice, one that fired a warning shot over Napoleon’s bow.

“A woman then?”

“No, you are right.” Illya’s voice softened and he moved his hand over Napoleon’s abdomen, drawing lazy circles around his navel. Obviously, Illya had decided that two could play at this game and he was as bent upon distracting Napoleon as Napoleon was on not being distracted.

“What was he like, Illya?” 

Illya pulled away, the languidness of the moment gone, replaced by something Napoleon could only classify as wariness. “Why are you asking me this?”

“You never talk about your past.”

“There are reasons.” Illya sat up and Napoleon shivered at the loss of the warmth of the supple body. “And they are my own.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I transcend those reasons. If you can’t trust me with your secrets, who can you trust?” Napoleon reached out and grasped a shoulder, pulling slightly, encouragingly. “I’m not saying complete disclosure, just this one thing.”

“This is silly.”

“Love frequently is. I don’t want to think of how ridiculous I must look at times –“

“You never look ridiculous…”

“Never?”

“Well, perhaps just before you climax… around the eyes and mouth.” Illya grinned then and settled back down against him. Napoleon wrapped a leg around Illya just to be sure he stayed in place.

“So tell me…was he younger than you?”

With a sigh, Illya murmured, “No, older.”

“And more knowledgeable than you?”

“Well, let’s just say there were mutual discoveries along the way.”

Napoleon ran his hand up the impossibly soft skin of Illya’s back, his mind ticking off this or that scar as his hand floated over the raised ridges. “Was he kind?”

“And very patient.” 

Napoleon’s hand traveled back down until it reached the small of Illya’s back and massaged the dimple of Venus. Almost catlike, Illya arched beneath his hand and Napoleon smiled.  
“What did he look like?” At the silence, he prompted, “Illya?”

“Hmm? Oh, he was dark and a little on the solid side.”

“Come again?”

“Oh, I intend to, but just not right at the moment. I’m still enjoying the last bout, thank you.”

“You’re prevaricating, Kuryakin.”

“Am I?” Illya rolled to his side and squirmed around until his penis, already recovered and preparing for a second assault, rested comfortably against Napoleon’s thigh. “What I mean is he wasn’t thin or necessarily feminine in any way. Very masculine, very comfortable.”

“How about his eyes?”

“Usually closed.”

“I’m going to smack you…”

“All right, if you think you are man enough to try it.” Illya made a sudden jab to Napoleon’s ribs that set off a brief but eminently satisfying wrestling match.

Napoleon caught Illya’s hands by the wrists, then pinned them to the mattress as he proceeded to abuse Illya’s neck with his lips and teeth until Illya was writhing and panting.

“Now, his eyes…” He let Illya’s hands go, knowing his partner chafed at being restrained, even for fun.

Illya took a deep breath. “Kind, although world weary at times… capable of great depth of feeling, but also surprisingly vulnerable – one of his best features, I think, although his lips - also nice…”

“Did he love you?” Napoleon tried to not make the question sound bitter. It hurt to see such warmth in Illya’s eyes, such open affection. After all, he did ask.

“I believe so, very much.” The answer came quickly and without hesitation.

“What about you? Did you love him?” Napoleon held his breath now.

“As frequently as possible.”

“Illya…”

“Yes?”

“You really are the master of evasion.” Napoleon licked his lips with just the tip of his tongue, eyes nearly closed, trying to blot out the image of someone other than him loving his partner, making Illya moan and arch with love.

“One goes with one’s strength.”

“Why did you stop loving him?”

“Who says that I have?”

“Well, I just assumed… well, you’re with me and I… ah… thought… apparently incorrectly… that this was a pretty exclusive relationship.”

“It is…”

“But you just professed to loving another man…”

“No.”

“Yes. I asked why you stopped loving him and you said you hadn’t. That means either there’s another cock in the henhouse, in a manner of speaking… or…”

“You’re a blockhead,” Illya finished. He surged up to kiss Napoleon thoroughly and completely.

“ Me?” Napoleon struggled and failed to keep the astonishment out of his voice as Illya nodded slowly and straddled Napoleon’s waist, positioned himself just so, and began to move. “I’m your first?”

“My first love… yes.”

“Well, I guess you ask a silly question…” He smiled as Illya covered his body with his own and began to kiss him again. You get exactly the answer you hoped for.


End file.
